


Forever Is Our Today

by MissCricket



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Carver is insecure, Carver's journey, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Friends and Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Garrett Hawke is an arsehole, Grey Warden Alistair (Dragon Age), Grey Warden Stamina, Grey Wardens, M/M, Mage-Templar Dynamics (Dragon Age), Multi, Open Relationships, Ostagar (Dragon Age), Polyamory, The Wardens want to fix that, friendship is important, time jumps, you can be both
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27040171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCricket/pseuds/MissCricket
Summary: He started in Lothering, almost ended in Ostagar, existed in Kirkwall, almost ended again in the Deep Roads, and then truly became who he was supposed to be in the Wardens. Of course that journey of self discovery had a lot of bumps along the way...but a lot of love too.orThe Wardens of Ferelden have no boundaries. Not even prickly baby Hawke boundaries.(ESPECIALLY not prickly baby Hawke boundaries)
Relationships: Alistair/Carver Hawke, Alistair/Carver Hawke/Nathaniel Howe, Anders/Carver Hawke, Anders/Carver Hawke/Fenris, Carver Hawke/Grey Wardens, Carver Hawke/Nathaniel Howe, Female Cousland/Carver Hawke, Female Cousland/Carver Hawke/Nathaniel Howe, Fenris/Carver Hawke, Nathaniel howe/Carver Hawke/Alistair
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. There can only be one...

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr for more Carver things: https://misscricket.tumblr.com/
> 
> (yes I'm still there...)

**_Lothering_ **

**_9:29 Dragon_ **

Sometimes, when his chores are done, Carver heads across the fields to old Barlin’s farm.

He does odd jobs for the old man, heavy lifting and feeding of the livestock. He’d prefer to spend that time practicing with his favourite stick, copying the moves that the mercenaries make when they practice with their blades, but the extra coin goes towards bread for the table, gifts for his sister and mother, and his little jar of savings in case the worst happens.

And he doesn’t mind the work really. Lifting hay bales, while not exactly glorious, is an excellent conditioning tool. He’s filled out a lot in the last year and he’s started noticing the speculative looks people send him. He’s also gotten taller...so that helps too.

He’s even taller than Garrett now, and boy doesn’t that make him smile every time he thinks about his brother’s surly expression.

He tosses down a hay bale with a grunt and grins as it crashes onto the ground, splitting apart.

“Carver Hawke, what did that bale ever do to you?” 

The voice catches him by surprise, and he leans over to see a familiar face smiling up at him.

Peaches is the miller's daughter, same age as him and Bethany, but she couldn’t look more different from his sister if she tried. Peaches is a lot shorter than either of them, with a sweet round face, often flushed pink. Her eyes are blue and her pale blond hair blows wispily around her head.

She was Bethany’s friend first, but in reality any friend of Bethany’s quickly became a friend of Carver’s too, and vice versa, simply because the twins couldn’t imagine not sharing everything. Peaches is the reason he and Bethany could sometimes bring more flour home than expected. And she was a good friend...mostly because she was completely oblivious at times.

Perfect for a family of apostates who wanted to fit in enough not to stand out...but also not really be noticed.

“If you’re looking for Bethany, she’s over at the cottage.” he calls down to her, and grins, “She doesn’t like doing the sweaty jobs.”

Peaches laughs up at him, and tosses her head slightly, making her hair swish over her shoulders, “Silly Carver...I came to see you!”

“Me?” Carver blinks and tries not to gawp at her, “Did you need something lifted?”

“You’re such a joker,” she swats a hand at him playfully and there is something off about her voice...her actions, “Would you just get down here? I have a surprise for you...”

He isn’t sure he wants to...a part of him is worried about a trap, “I’ve got to finish this job…”

“ _Carver…_ ” her voice takes on a more familiar tone of exasperation, “Can’t you tell when a girl wants to.. _.show you something_?”

This is sounding more and more like one of Garrett’s tricks, but Carver decides to give Peaches the benefit of the doubt and slowly climbs down.

“Alright, alright...here I am…” he turns around and startles as he finds her right there, her eyelashes fluttering, “Um...do you have something in your eye?”

“What?” Peaches blinks at him, and then huffs in pure exasperation, “Carver you are just…” she grabs his hand and drags him out the back door, into a small nook created with stacked farming tools and wood. And then she shoves him gently.

He could have resisted of course, but he is curious now, and so he goes along with her push, letting his back lightly rest up against the wooden logs.

Peaches grins wolfishly, and before he has a chance to worry again, she drops to her knees and yanks his breeches open.

“Hey!” he yelps, hands instinctively lowering to cover himself up, but his next words of outrage are swallowed up by a moan as a soft wet warmth closes around his cock.

Startled he looks down and sees his childhood friend smirking, her mouth wrapped all the way around his rapidly hardening cock, as her blue eyes meet his.

She hums softly around him and her head bobs, making her lips slide slowly along him and the sensation is unlike anything he’s ever felt before. It’s warm and encompassing and it feels so much better than his hand he can’t even believe he’d been happy just with that.

Was this what Peaches had wanted to show- Andraste’s tits what the fuck were her fingers….oh.

He makes a high pitched noise and thrusts clumsily forward, pressing deeper into the warmth of her mouth, running away from her cold fingers teasing somewhere he’d never thought a girl would be teasing.

She laughs, a muffled sound before she bobs on him once more as one of her cool fingers dips inside him and Carver makes a strangled, desperate noise before he’s coming.

It’s embarrassingly quick, but it makes Peaches smirk as she draws back, coughing, some of his come on her lips as she licks them.

“That’s what...you wanted to show?” Carver splutters, breathless but feeling like he can float to the Fade right there and then, “I...um...s’pretty good.”

She laughs at him and as he slips down to sit in the dust with a thud, she slides onto his lap and coaxes his fingers up under her dress.

He’s clumsy and unsure, but she guides his fingers in circles, pressing them where she wants them and it’s even hotter and wetter down there than it was in her mouth. It takes a bit of time but soon he sees Peaches’ mouth open on a choked little noise and her hips stutter against his fingers. “Oh...yessss…” she sighs, and after a moment she gets up and brushes down her skirt.

Slowly Carver gets to his feet too, shyly wiping his now damp fingers down against the burlap sacks, “I um...look this was...amazing but...why…?”

Peaches tosses her blonde hair over her shoulders and grins at him, “Practice makes perfect right? Isn’t that why you play with your sticks?”

“Swords.” Carver corrects instinctively before frowning. “So you were…”

“Just don’t tell anyone...okay?” She pecks his cheek and grins, “This was fun! See you later Carver!”

It took Carver a while after she left to move from the nook. And when he did, he sped through his tasks so he could get home, nerves fizzing pleasantly.

She’d said not to tell anyone...but Carver could never keep a secret from his sister.

* * *

The next time he sees Peaches, he’s in town with his brother and sister. They’re crossing the old stone bridge across the river, heading back towards the road that leads to their farmhold. 

She’s coming the other way and looks up from her basket to grin at the sight of them.

“Bethany,” She greets politely, “Garrett…” And then her blue eyes flick to him, “ _Carver…_ ”

His face instantly flames with colour and he feels Bethany’s elbow excitedly jab into his side.

“H-hey Peaches.” he greets her, rubbing the back of his neck before he can stop the obviously nervous gesture.

Garrett’s golden eyes are sharp as they flick between him and the blonde before him, and then they narrow slightly before widening.

“I’ll see you round…” She murmurs coyly, before sliding past them and into town.

Bethany’s elbow jabbing picks up in speed and Carver winces before he calls out after her.

“Can’t wait!”

“Oh Maker…” Bethany giggles beside him, “Carver…”

“Shut it…” he elbows her back and the two of them tussle all the way home as Garrett rolls his eyes at their childishness.

* * *

It’s another late afternoon, but the sun is still bright, and Carver wasn’t expecting to be done with his chores, but he is. 

So he heads to old Barlin’s barn. A couple of extra copper bits will help, and since there’s still good light...he might as well make the most of it.

He trundles into the barn and moves towards the ladder to the hayloft when he hears a strange noise, like voices….and a flapping sound.

Carver pauses and slowly moves towards the sound, towards the back of the barn, and it’s only as he’s reaching for the door, that he sees something through the old slats.

Peaches is flat on her back, blond hair scattered across the dusty soil. Her body, from what he can see, is completely bare and bounces with the force of the man on top of hers thrusts. 

Pain lances through his chest, and he’s not sure why exactly. It’s not like she promised him anything, but here she is, in the spot where she’d taken him by surprise and made his chest feel light...with someone else.

And then he recognises the dark hair.

And the stubble.

And that fucking face when it tips back with a groan.

Garrett Hawke slams into the girl and she cries out with pleasure, a sound she’d never made with Carver, and his golden eyes open and lock onto his blue ones.

He doesn’t look shocked.

He doesn’t look surprised.

He simply smirks and gives her an especially rough thrust, that elicits a truly wanton sound from the girl beneath him.

“So my baby brother,” Garrett panted, looking at Carver through the slats, and for a second Carver thinks he’s actually talking to him, “Why’d you bring him here?”

“A girl needs some secrets!” Peaches moans and Garrett does something with his hips that make her mewl, “Ohhhh….I wanted you to notice me...and...you did always want your brother's toys.”

If pain had been what he felt earlier, this was agony now, shame, and embarrassment, and hurt and humiliation.

“The better brother.” Garrett purred and Peaches moaned in agreement under him.

“The only brother I wanted.” 

Carver didn’t want to hear any more. So he turned and ran, silent and fleet of foot, all the way home, Peaches’ scream of orgasm ringing in his ears.

* * *

Bethany didn’t ask. She simply wrapped herself around him and made tiny dragons made of ice with her magic, and didn’t say anything as his tears dripped onto her sleeve.

“I hate him.”

She nuzzles him softly and closes her eyes, “No you don’t.”

“I wish I hated him…”

Her lips brush his cheek and they curl up together, “Better.”

“Love you.”

She smiles, he can feel it against his neck, “That I have never doubted. I love you too.”

* * *

Garrett catches up to him the next day with a falsely conciliatory hand on his shoulder and a falsely concerned look on his stupid face.

“I was worried she was using you little brother.” he gives his shoulder a gentle shake, and Carver hates him for how reasonable he sounds, “Better you know yeah? Saved you a lot of heartache.”

He gives Carver an expectant look, clearly angling for gratitude.

When Carver doesn’t say anything, Garrett sighs, like Carver is being childish, and lets him go, “Go on then.” he says, with all the long suffering tone of an aged parent, “Let me know when you’re done sulking. Then we can talk.”

Carver thinks he should be sainted on the spot for not kicking his brothers shins.

* * *

Later that week he finds himself in the Chantry, listening to the pretty red haired lay sister say her prayers, her accent making the words almost musical.

Normally the sound of an Orlesian accent made him want to punch someone in the face...but hers...no hers was like the song of water over riverbed stones, calm and soothing.

When she stops, he finds himself opening his mouth.

“How do you forgive someone?”

She turns in surprise, and her bright eyes meet his, “I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry I…” he rubs the back of his neck again, “I just...find it hard to forgive.”

The laysister nods, and gets to her feet, moving to sit beside him.

She’s soft, and kind but there is a sadness to her. It makes it hard to look away. She’s so beautiful...and interesting.

“Forgiveness is one of the hardest tasks the Maker asks of his children. It is so difficult to let the pain of betrayal go...to free yourself from its grasp. But it is important too, not for them...but for you. That kind of anger...that can corrupt a person's very soul.”

Carver knows what she means, his anger towards Garrett has felt as dark as a vial of poison.

“So how...how do you…”

“You just do.” the red haired laysister smiles at him softly, “Look at the things that are simpler...more beautiful. Think of the things you love…Your anger has no place there.”

He nods but looks down at his feet.

She simply looks at him, and then when he can’t think of anything to say, she shrugs and gets to her feet, “I hope the Maker brings you peace.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Carver mutters as she walks away. “He’s been a right Darkspawns arse so far.”

* * *

Peaches tries to talk to him once, to tell him why, but he brushes her off.

All he had to hear was one word about how she’d loved Garrett forever and had just wanted him to see her, and he wanted to pick her up and throw her bodily into the river.

“Shove your sodding-” he cut himself off and storms away, stalking over the bridge, “Sod all of you,”

The last is directed at a flock of chickens who cluck unhappily at him.

“Oi Carver!” 

He pivots and sees old Barlin nearby. The man nods towards a kerfuffle near the Chantry.

“There’s a Blight,” the old man informs him solemnly, “Word is that the King and the Grey Wardens are heading south. They’re looking for recruits…”

* * *

When he clanks into the house that night, Bethany pauses with a spoon halfway towards her mouth and his mother covers her mouth with a hand.

The armor is heavy and doesn’t really fit right, but it’s real armor, and that’s a real sword on his back.

“What in the Maker’s hairy-” Garrett catches their mothers eye and wilts, “er….head...have you done now Carver.”

“I joined the army.” Carver informs them all, and sits down in a great clunk of armour, “I’m going to fight Darkspawn.”

It feels like a big moment.

Until Bethany sets bursts into tears and sets Garrett’s hair on fire.

“This is all your fault!” she screams at him while Carver bodily hauls her into their bedroom, “You-you…”

And when they lay there, together that night it sinks in for Carver too.

Oh the fighting...that he can do. 

But he’s never spent a night away from Bethany in his life. They’ve shared a bed every night of their lives, shared the same dreams, breathed in each other's air. She’s his twin, his other half.

But if there’s a Blight, down in the Korcari Wilds then it could come here. He needs to keep her safe.

“I love you.” she whispers, and he feels her fingers cradle his cheeks, her forehead resting against his lips. Gently his fingers curl around her wrists and he feels her shudder against him.

“That...I never doubted,” he breathes back, and holds her tight. “You’ll see...We’ll win the war..I’ll come back a hero...and we’ll never be apart again.”

“Promise?” she insists and he kisses her forehead.

“I promise.”

* * *

He almost kept it.


	2. Love is for Poets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carver surprises his superiors, and then is surprised in turn. Also plans are hatched.

_**Vigil's Keep** _

_**9:33 Dragon** _

If there’s something Carver loves about being a Warden, it’s the feeling of being a part of something, the feeling of belonging.

They lead busy lives, not only ensuring the safety and smooth running of the Arling but also doing the work of Grey Wardens. The Blight is over, the Archdemon slain, but there are still a great many tasks they still need to do, and Commander Cousland is nothing if not driven.

“It’s very easy for us to become...complacent about the Darkspawn in between Blights.” Ephena Cousland informed him on his second day as a Warden under her command, her blue eyes sharp but kind, “They only push up onto the surface in limited numbers, and can be more easily routed because they lack leadership. So I say we take the fight to them underground, push them back while they are weakened from the Blight and the loss of the Archdemon.”

Her plan makes sense to him, but he knows not everyone is as on board with taking the fight to the Darkspawn as he is. There is still an Orlesian contingent, back from when the Wardens had their numbers slashed to just 2 members, and it seems these are the men who struggle most with the changes Ephena is bringing to the table 

Carver finds her fascinating, a thrilling combination of combat prowess and sharp political acumen. She’s a force of nature, beautiful, ruthless, impossibly charming and with a softness to her that makes her approachable. She loves her Wardens, feels possessive and protective of them. 

The Orlesians aren’t hers, and so it feels like a silent tussle behind the scenes for control. 

Carver doesn’t mind Stroud, the Orlesian Warden who’d brought him here. The man has thrown in his lot with Ephena, abandoning his fellows to join the Ferelden side. As such Ephena gives him the missions that allow him to roam and wander, knowing that being on the move is what makes Stroud happy.

She’s good like that.

He knows that Anders’ abandonment of his place here hurt Ephena, hurt everyone really. The stories of that time, the Darkspawn Civil War as they call it, are incredible, and everyone can see the bond between their Commander and the group of Wardens the others call the First.

Any time Anders’ name is mentioned, Ephena’s eyes go impossibly sad, Nathaniel’s jaw hardens like granite, Oghren starts muttering swear words and Velanna...well her lip curls a little more than usual. They miss him, that much is obvious, and Carver can’t help but wonder if Anders knows how much he was actually valued.

Probably not.

Arrogant prat.

* * *

Dinner is the meal that everyone eats together. 

It’s like a law, if you’re in the Keep, or even if you’re stationed in the manor house in Amaranthine, you join everyone for dinner in the hall.

So dinner times are always rowdy, full of laughter and chatter as everyone gathers on the long tables and eats together.

After the meal is done, some people disperse, but often there are more drinks to be had, tales to be told and cards to be played. It reminds him of the best bits of being at the Hanged Man, and being with Garrett and his friends.

Sometimes he misses Isabela’s infectious laugh, or Varric’s smooth stories, or Fenris’ insistent debates about wine vs ale, or Merrill’s bubbly interjections. Sometimes he even misses Garrett and Anders’ debates on Mages.

But that’s a very rare sometimes.

Sodding mages.

Still...he loves dinnertime at the Keep, and he knows the other Wardens love it too.

* * *

Tonight is a raucous night of celebrations.

A party of Wardens had gone down into the Deep Roads about a month ago and had set about clearing a section of the Kal’Hirol Thaig, sealing it up so that it was now secure from further Darkspawn incursions. The mission had been successful, and what was more, no Wardens had been lost during it.

So the mood is celebratory, with the wine, ale and mead flowing freely, and a speech from Ephena that prompts almost ceiling raising cheers.

Several Wardens fetch out various instruments and soon the Hall is full of music, laughter and chatter.

Carver finds himself soon enough at a Wicked Grace table, and grins as Alistair comfortably slings an arm over his shoulder.

“How are your Grace skills Pup?” Nathaniel asks from across the table, and his lips curve up into a faint smirk, “You strike me as the honest sort.”

A part of him wants to leap into defense, to tell his superior exactly how good he is at the game, but something stops him before he does. There’s a glint in Nathaniel’s grey eyes...one he’s seen before and always means trouble.

And suddenly, in a flash he realises that that is exactly what Nathaniel _wants_ him to do. He wants Carver to reveal more than he should.

So he shrugs, scowling, because he finds it easier to lie if he’s pretending to be sulky about it.

“Played a few times with my brother and his friends back in Kirkwall.”

Alistair chuckles softly and squeezes him for a moment, “Don’t worry Hawke, Nathaniel and Ephena are disturbingly good at this game. I’m always left wondering if I should be reconsidering my friendship with them, after we play a game or two.”

A musical laugh heralds the arrival of Ephena and Carver sees Alistair’s golden eyes flick up, brightening with his smile, before his commander leans down to rest her arms on Carver’s shoulders and her chin on the top of his head.

They’ve always been touchy, his Commander and her second, demonstrative in a way that is both surprising and hauntingly familiar. But they’ve stepped up the open affection since the Julven incident, and he enjoys it just as much as they do, so he’s hardly going to complain.

Plus there’s something comfortable about the way Ephena fits snugly under his arm, or the way Alistair is the same height as him, and treats him like a comrade, rather than a subordinate.

He knows Ephena sees him as one of ‘hers’, one of ‘her Wardens’. Not an Orlesian sent to bolster their numbers, not an obligation as a recruit.

Sure his Joining hadn’t been exactly...conventional. But he’d survived and made it here and when Stroud handed him over, Ephena had taken one look at him and welcomed him into her family.

“Are you going to join us Fee?” Nathaniel murmurs, and his grey eyes are wicked as he makes the cards shuffle fluidly in his hands, “We need to see how much our Pup can take.”

Carver’s cheeks burn brightly and he covers up the reaction by quickly scooping up a tankard and drinking.

Ephena laughs softly above him and her arms hug him snugly before she’s sliding into the unoccupied seat on Nathaniel’s other side.

“You know I can’t resist embarrassing you at Wicked Grace, Nate.”

They share a look heavy with shared memories and history but also light with their open affection for each other, and Alistair chuckles lightly beside Carver.

“Well then shall we play?” he asks, unslinging his arm unwillingly from Carver’s shoulders to accept his cards, “Good luck Carver.”

“You too…” Carver answers absently, eyes scanning his hand.

And so the game begins.

* * *

Carver thrashes them.

It’s beautiful to behold and he kind of wishes Varric and Isabela could have been there to see it.

Nathaniel and Ephena are so used to being each other’s biggest threats, that he kind of slides past and undercuts both of them. They also make the mistake of assuming he’s being honest more than he’s lying, and that’s just plain wrong.

He’s gotten really good with taking more than one card and slipping two back, and he’s gotten really good at knowing when to race for a good hand, and when to loose the arrow on his compatriots, throwing out the Angel of Death to end the round before they’re ready.

By the end, Alistair’s face is red from holding in his laughter, Ephena is peering at her cards like they’re betraying her, and Nathaniel is glaring at him through narrowed eyes. 

Carver simply curves up his lips in a half smirk.

“Don’t you sodding well dare Pup.” Nathaniel growls, and Carver laughs before he plays the Angel of Death, making Ephena groan and thunk her head to the table and Alistair roars with laughter.

They all show their hands, and he’s won again, for the final time that night. Both Nathaniel and Ephena are looking at him like he’s grown an extra head and Alistair keeps bursting into laughter every time he looks at them.

“This was the best thing.” he informs Carver, wiping his eyes before getting to his feet, “But we’d better do the rounds Ephena.”

His Commander sighs and nods, standing, and gently resting her hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, her fingertips brushing the join of his neck and shoulder before she points a finger at Carver, “I’m onto you Hawke...we’re going to be having a rematch.”

“I look forward to it.” he grins up at her, and she huffs at him before stalking off, Alistair helplessly chuckling as he follows.

Nathaniel sits back in his chair and watches the pair of them go, before he turns those intense grey eyes onto Carver once more, “You’re a surprise, Pup.”

“How so?”

“You’re a warrior...frontline. You whack things with the biggest sword you can handle.” his smokey voice curls around the words and Carver feels something flutter in his gut, “You’re blunt, and honest with your opinions. You don’t play politics…”

“So?”

“So…” Nathaniel’s lips curve up, “You should, by all logic and reason, be shit at Wicked Grace.”

“I had good teachers,” Carver grins slightly and thinks wistfully of Varric and Isabela again. He’d never really noticed how much they’d taught him, they’d been subtle with that too. They’d known he’d out and out refuse if they offered it that way. Too prickly and defensive...he hated remembering how he’d acted back then.

But they’d taught him anyway.

Nathaniel’s eyes consider him, and he meets them squarely, making the man smile slowly.

“You’re an interesting man, Carver Hawke. I know you still sometimes doubt your place here…” Carver looks down and Nathaniel leans across the table, swiftly placing his hand on Carver’s making the young man’s eyes lift inexorably back to his, “You should not. You belong here.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Nathaniel’s grey eyes are warm as they consider him, “The hardest battle one has to fight in this world, is our place in it. The wars we fight inside ourselves, the victories we earn against our circumstances, our doubts, our limitations. Those are the marks of someone truly great. You’ve shown flashes of greatness Carver. The Wardens will give you a place to shine….rather than simply flash.”

Carver looks down, embarrassed by the praise, and Nathaniel gently draws his hand back.

“We’re almost out of mead, Pup.” 

“Huh?” he looks up and over and sees that some of the Wardens are struggling to get much mead out of the barrel, “Ah...and you want me to go get some more?”

Nathaniel smirks at him fondly, “What else are those broad shoulders for?”

It gives him a chance to escape, to take a moment to think about the great compliment the usually taciturn Nathaniel had paid him, and Carver takes it, hurrying out of the hall.

Slowly he descends into the basement of the Hall, pondering his superiors words, and so he doesn’t realise what’s happening until he’s in the room.

Ephena and Alistair…

It’s like looking at the sun and the moon, Alistair with his bronze skin, amber hair, and warm dark gold eyes. Ephena with her catlike blue eyes, flowing ebony hair and that pale skin the Cousland siblings share. She’s tiny beside him, but there is a force to her, a magnetism that draws the eye. 

They’re together, tucked into a corner of the cellar, naked and beautiful, and their eyes are locked on each other.

Carver can’t look away.

Ephena’s body moves with a fluidity that’s familiar, she moves the same way when she fights, fluid and flowing and always balanced. Alistair’s hands look large on her hips, but despite his size there is a tenderness to him, a gentleness that always shines through.

They move together like its a dance they’ve performed countless times, but with the same passion and affection as always.

Envy lances through him, sharp and shocking and he doesn’t know, in that moment, just who he’s jealous of. Is he jealous of Alistair for the way his hands move over Ephena’s soft skin, the way he makes her head fall back and her eyes close rapturously? Is he jealous of Ephena for the raw emotion on Alistair’s face, the fierce way he gathers her to him, the strength and protectiveness and love. Is he jealous of both of them, for having each other, for being special to someone…

For being someone’s favourite.

He turns on his heel and flees, racing from the cellar until he makes it to the ramparts.

The cool air slaps him in the face and he groans, leaning on the parapets as his mind races.

But the image of Ephena and Alistair doesn’t leave him.

Not even when he eventually returns to his room and struggles to sleep, haunted by large hands, pale skin, warm golden brown eyes, red lips and a word that beats with every thunder of his own heart.

Want.

* * *

Nathaniel’s waiting for them when they return from their tryst in the cellars.

“Well?”

Ephena sighs and tosses him a silver piece of coin, “You were right, don’t be smug about it.”

Nathaniel catches it and looks over to Alistair, “What happened?”

“Exactly what you said would happen.” Alistair folds his arms and sighs too, looking dishevelled and sated, but also disappointed, “He ran.”

“I thought he’d...I thought he’d say something!” Ephena scowls, and kicks a flagstone, “Stupid boy.”

Nate chuckles, “I did doubt myself...after the Wicked Grace game. Who knew our Pup could play like that?”

Alistair grins too, and shrugs lightly, “He’s not stupid...despite sometimes opening his mouth before he thinks. People think he’s oafish, but he isn’t.”

Ephena leans into Alistair and sighs softly, “I can’t believe he ran. It was practically an invitation.”

“He saw it as an intrusion…” Alistair murmurs back, and the two look at him in surprise, “What? Carver reminds me a lot of someone I used to know. He saw us...and he ran, thinking he was intruding. Unwanted.”

Ephena makes a noise of distress, “That was the opposite of what I wanted!”

Nathaniel sighs softly, “We have to be more direct. Subtle isn’t working.”

“We can’t be more direct!” Ephena scowls at them, “You know how it goes. The Grey Wardens aren’t strict about fraternisation, but I am his Commander, Alistair is his Superior and Nathaniel is his direct supervisor. We all have a position of power over him…if he felt...obligated.”

All of them shudder, horrified at the thought.

“It has to come from him,” Ephena concludes.

“But he won’t,” Alistair protests, “He’ll never believe that we’re all...that the Wardens share a lot more than he realises.”

Ephena sighs, “Makes me wish Anders was here...our Anders. He’d know what to say.”

They all lapse into silence, disappointed and trying to think of solutions.

“Someone else needs to tell him, about how everyone shares everyone else's beds,” Nathaniel muses softly, “But he’s missed all the subtle clues up til now.”

“Stubborn mabari of a boy,” Ephena sighs, “So smart and yet so….stupid.”

Alistair chuckles, “We’ll get there. He lingered, watching us for a while...I don’t think he’s repulsed by us.”

Ephena makes a face, but allows the point.

Nathaniel nods, “Well then...we’ll just have to redouble our efforts.”

“I always wanted to tame a Hawke…” Ephena grins at them both as they groan, “Get it?”

“I wish I didn’t.” Nathaniel grumbles, walking away down the hall and Ephena laughs, chasing after him.

“Don’t be like that Nate!”

Alistair smiles as he watches them go, but soon the smile fades from his lips and he frowns contemplatively.

Up until now he’d gone along with Nathaniel and Ephena’s plans. 

Maybe it was time to make his own.

After all, they had shifty minds, and Carver, for all his Wicked Grace skills...was a more open and honest sort.

Alistair smiles faintly, and follows the pair at a slower pace, planning his own seduction of Carver Hawke.


End file.
